Win Some, Lose Some
by Neon Kitsune
Summary: She could handle House.  She could handle Edward Vogler.  And with any luck, she could handle them both together.
1. Control Freaks

**Notes:** No warnings; the strongest language in here is "damn" and there's no sex at all. Characters and situations property of people with a lot more money than I've got; the way I've arranged them is property of me. Otherwise known as "why Cuddy wasn't actually a passive-aggressive lapdog during the Vogler arc".

* * *

Lisa Cuddy took a deep breath and began to speak.

"It's rare for an individual to make a donation significant enough to impact an organization as large and unwieldy as a hospital. This donation does come with one string: that he be made Chairman of the Board. I think that's a reasonable request." Lisa's eyes flicked to James Wilson, her head of Oncology, and she winced a little internally. No one who didn't know him well would have caught it, but Wilson didn't approve. But she soldiered on, "I think he should have the right to know what it is we do with his one hundred million dollars. Please welcome our new Chairman of the Board, Edward Vogler." She started the clapping and sat down as Vogler began making his speech.

She'd known the man was a control freak from pretty much the instant she met him, of course--aside from the fact that he had to be to have gotten where he was, it took one to know one. But you didn't turn down a hundred million dollars just because the person offering you the money was a control freak, not if you wanted to stay Dean of Medicine.

Instead you humored him. You played down the glamor of medicine, made sure to point out that Princeton-Plainsboro was a teaching hospital, not a research facility, at every opportunity; you waited for him to get bored and realize that he had better (more lucrative) things to do with his time than running board meetings in one tiny corner of his empire. And when he was bored enough, you eased him out of active participation, and you ended up with his money. If his speech was any indication, it was going to take a little longer for boredom to set in than Lisa had originally calculated--a father with Alzheimer's was a powerful motivator--but not so long that it couldn't be handled.

Lisa would have been sure she could do it, if only it hadn't been for...well. It wasn't as if the presentation of House (Gregory House, MD; nephrology and infectious disease; head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine, certified genius, emotional three-year-old, and all-around pain in her ass) as a complicating factor deserved a drumroll. House complicated everything, and generally she could handle it, with a little help from Wilson. The only problem was that this had all happened too fast; she hadn't had time to give Wilson more than the briefest of heads-up, so he hadn't had time to start gentling House down. How Wilson, who was universally beloved, managed to connect so well with House was something Lisa didn't understand, but she could only be grateful for it in circumstances like these. She was glumly aware that House hated change, and she knew she couldn't explain to him that she intended Vogler's tenure to be temporary--couldn't even let him figure it out, because knowing House he'd take that knowledge as an excuse to not change _anything_. If he thought it was permanent she might just be able to get some action out of him.

Unfortunate phrasing, that, as the man himself would have gleefully pointed out. Lisa sighed, exasperated with herself. She could handle House. She could handle Edward Vogler. And with any luck at all, she could handle them both together.

* * *

Lisa invited Vogler for a tour of the hospital--it was expected of her. She had a little internal bet with herself--House was rubbing off on her--and she won it handily when the first thing he said after a few sentences of idle chat was, "I want to run this place like a business."

She'd thought hard about how to handle it, and she'd decided that showing him how absurd the statement was might be a good start. But she faked surprise. "What, you want to put more vending machines in the hallway? Maybe a roulette wheel?"

"Nice one," Vogler said, though she knew he didn't really think so. "But I'm serious," he persisted. "The product that you're selling is good health, it shouldn't be a tough sell. You don't want to sell, it means people don't care about your product. You care if people are healthy, or are you too proud for that?" Lisa took the shot without comment, but Vogler didn't keep talking right away. She followed the direction of his gaze and winced. Couldn't the man grow up? "Who's that?" Vogler asked, as well he should; it was House, and he was playing with a damn yo-yo.

"That's just one of our doctors," Lisa said, trying for offhand and afraid she was only managing flustered. She'd really intended to introduce House to Vogler in a more controlled setting.

"Aren't doctors supposed to wear lab coats?"

Yes, Lisa thought, but she said, "He's…different."

"Everyone's buddy," Vogler said knowingly. For a wild second Lisa was tempted to agree with him, just to see the look on his face later, but she quashed the impulse.

"No, not exactly."

Vogler thought that over for a second. "Then why does he get away with it?"

"It's just a coat," Lisa said, which was the wrong thing to say. "He's very good," she added. That was the hell of it; House was the best they had.

"Hmm," Vogler replied noncommitally. By now they were past House, thank God, and Lisa started talking brightly about the improvements they'd be able to make to the wing.

* * *

When the tour was over, she girded her metaphorical loins and went to track House down. She lay in wait near the elevators; House couldn't use the stairs without great difficulty due to his bad leg, so the elevator was generally a good place to corner him. When he finally showed up, she made no pretense at all about getting into the car with him. He stared at her balefully as he hit the button for the fourth floor and made a point of not speaking during the trip. When the doors began to slide open, she sighed--she realized that she did that a lot in connection with House. "I need you to wear your lab coat," she said shortly as they disembarked. It wouldn't work, but it would open negotiations.

House, it seemed, was in a mood today because he responded, "I need two days of outrageous sex with someone obscenely younger than you. Like half your age."

Lisa rolled her eyes at him as they went down the hall. It always surprised her how fast he moved with that cane, especially when he didn't want to talk to someone, but she'd been short her whole life and keeping up with men with longer legs was something she was used to. "Wear the coat," she said.

"Man oh man. Someone got spanked real good this morning," House said, with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows. Lisa ignored it.

"Guy gives a hundred million dollars to cure cancer, pretty small concession to wear a lab coat," she said, which she realized was a tactical error as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Sure enough, House pounced on it. "Cure cancer. Is the hospital getting out of the dull business of treating patients?"

"You know that's not what he's doing," Lisa said, trying to sound bored.

"I know exactly what he's doing. He's using us to run clinical trials."

"Oh, shame on him--saving lives like that!" Lisa replied as they passed the Diagnostics conference room. Sometimes House goaded her into meeting him on his level; sometimes it was just the only way to get through to him.

"It's unethical," House said, pushing open his office door. Lisa followed on his heels and he made a face at her. "Oh, are you coming in, too? I thought I had you convinced." He sat down in his chair with a relief he'd have been appalled to realize she could see. It must have been a bad day, which wasn't going to help her deal with him; House, like most people, was far more reasonable when he wasn't in pain. Or was in _less_ pain--the fact that he could think at all, much less be brilliant, on the amount of Vicodin he took told her very uncomfortable things about the kind of discomfort he was in on a daily basis.

But that was beside the point. "Clinical trials save thousands of lives," Lisa said.

"He's using patients as guinea pigs."

Lisa rolled her eyes and said, "Pharmaceutical companies do that every day."

House gave her the patented are-you-an-idiot stare he usually reserved for clinic patients who he thought were wasting his time (almost all of them, that was). "Are we a pharmaceutical company?" he asked, clearly a rhetorical question so she didn't bother trying to interrupt his flow. "We're gonna wind up pressuring desperate patients into choices that are bad for them, good for us. You're gonna compromise patient care."

Lisa blinked at him, surprised and intrigued, and covered the shock by going on the attack. "Who the hell am I talking to? Suddenly ethical lapses are a major concern for you?"

"What's interesting is it suddenly doesn't bother you," House said, the flippant psychoanalysis he indulged in so often.

_This from the man who stole coffee cups to run a paternity test_, Lisa thought. Aloud, she said, "So, if you ignore ethics to save one person it's admirable, but if you do it to save a thousand you're a bastard. All he's done is taken your game and gone pro." She made this last as dismissive as she could manage.

House fixed her with a stare that was suddenly serious. "He's not going to kill a few patients. He's going to kill this hospital."

This would have been the perfect time to tell him her plan, but she wasn't going to do that. Instead, she said, "It took him three seconds to size you up, and surprise? He doesn't like you." She turned for the office door. "Wear the damn coat," she shot over her shoulder.

As she made her way back to her own office, she decided it had been a decent first pass. Time to work on him more later.

* * *

Later turned out to be sooner than she'd thought; it was less than a day later when House pushed his way through her office doors, unannounced as always. When he voluntarily entered her office, it was usually a bad sign--though at least when he came in on his own, he generally hadn't done the illegal or immoral thing _yet_. He dropped a pile of papers on her desk.

"My patient," he said without preamble, "needs a heart."

Lisa glanced at the forms, looked up at him. He'd taken on his usual posture, which was meant to suggest that the mere fact of being in her presence was boring him nearly to death, but there was a hint of tension in his shoulders that she didn't quite understand. "What happened?" she asked warily.

"Respiratory arrest caused by congestive heart failure," he said. Lisa narrowed her eyes when he didn't elaborate. House not trumpeting his superiority to the world was House up to something. But if she prodded, he'd curl up like an armadillo, presenting an impenetrable surface and refusing to answer any questions at all, so she just nodded.

"She can't wait?"

"No," he said. "As it is we might have to put her on bypass unless something happens pretty quick."

"I'll list her and we'll call an emergency meeting," she said, flipping through the pages to make sure everything was there. And that was when things got _really_ weird, because House just nodded and turned to leave. There was no parting shot, no cleavage comment, nothing.

Lisa watched his departing back, deeply suspicious. Only when he was out of sight did she sign the forms.

* * *

She was embroiled in pre-committee-meeting paperwork (just like House to have a patient who came in with problems nowhere near the organ she ended up needing to have replaced) when Vogler knocked on her office door. "Come in," she called, and he pushed the door open with a word of thanks--both of them knew he was coming in regardless, but Vogler was the type to keep up appearances. He got right down to business.

"What is a 'Department of Diagnostic Medicine'?" the large man asked bluntly.

Lisa wished again that she'd had a bit more time to prepare House for this, but aloud she went for just the facts. "That's Dr. House's department. They deal with cases that other doctors can't figure out."

"It's a financial black hole," Vogler said, taking a set in one of her visitor's chairs. "Department costs us $3 million a year, treat one patient a week."

And this was where the fun was going to start. "He saves one patient per week," she said shortly. The Diagnostics department was a jewel in PPTH's crown, the only one on the East Coast, and she was not prepared to give it up just because a non-medical businessman thought it a bad idea. Even if the department head was making her wonder what the hell he was up to this time.

"What about everyone else? His department's not going to find the cure for breast cancer," Vogler said.

Lisa resisted the urge to tell him that neither was anybody else, not in the next six months. All she managed to get out, though, was "Maybe not, but," before Vogler interrupted her.

"Are you sleeping with House?"

"What?" she said, completely taken aback. "No." The rumors went through the mill every once in a while--the remarks House delighted in throwing around didn't help--but no one had ever actually asked right out before. She was actually surprised that a businessman as savvy as Vogler had been so blunt about it; she'd have expected hints and pussyfooting.

"But you did, right? A long time ago?" he asked.

Lisa snapped shut the folder she'd been working on, considered a number of responses, and settled for simply saying, "That's an incredibly inappropriate question."

"If your judgment is compromised by prior or current relationship, that is my business."

"I respect him, that is all you need to know," Lisa said, making it clear that she considered the subject completely closed.

After a second, Vogler said, "He's still not wearing a coat."

How to explain that getting House to do things took time? "Well, I told him – "

"I'm sure you did. And yet, he's not wearing it. I'm just wondering if that's a reflection on him, or on you."

Lisa gave him a patently insincere smile, to match the thinly veiled threat in that comment. "Dr. House requires special handling. He'll come around," she said.

Vogler leaned back in his chair, looking skeptical. "Is he worth special handling?" And that, suspicions or no, was a question she could answer with no reservations at all.

"Yes," she said.

* * *

When it was time for the meeting, Lisa wasn't feeling any better about the transplant. For one thing she'd noticed that House had come to see her _before_ Carly's test results had come back from the thoracentisis. House being House, it wasn't impossible he'd just intuited the whole thing, of course, but if so why hadn't he insisted on telling everyone he could catch how he'd done it?

She let him get through his initial presentation before pressing the issue, and she had to admit the woman sounded like an ideal candidate. But there was the issue of the timing, so she went on the offensive.

"Dr. House, I'm confused by your time and date stamps," Lisa said. "It appears that you put Carly on the transplant list before you did these tests."

"I had a hunch," House said, though not as flippantly as she might have expected. It wasn't the _answer_ she'd expected either--House, admitting to uncertainty?

"You don't have hunches. You know," she said bluntly.

"Look, if the tests had come back differently, obviously I would have taken her off the list, but on the long shot--" House broke off for a moment as Vogler entered the conference room. Lisa stifled a sigh. Of course he had every right to sit in if he wanted to, but she was a little unnerved by the enthusiasm with which he was embracing every aspect of running the hospital. House gathered his thoughts and repeated, "On the long shot I was right, I didn't want to waste time."

All right, if that was how he wanted to play it. Time to pull out the big guns, "Are there any exclusion criteria we should know about?"

"CAT scan revealed no tumors and Dr. Wilson found no trace of cancer." And now she was sure he was being evasive.

"What about any other criteria?"

"No atherosclerotic vascular disease – "She tried to speak over him. "Are there any – "

House ignored her and kept talking. "No pneumonia, no bacteriemia, no Hep-B or C or any other letters." Which was when Lisa caught on: he was being very specific, because there _was_ something and he was hoping that if he listed everything it wasn't, he wouldn't have to flat-out deny it.

She thought over what was left and tried, "Substance abuse? Any history of – "

"No alcohol, no drugs."

"Any psychiatric conditions, history of depression –"

House said, "She's a little blue, but turns out she needs a heart transplant." That had the kind of tone to it that Lisa was used to hearing out of House, which meant she'd missed the target somewhere. She glanced at Vogler, who was watching her intently--watching her try and fail to outwit House. She didn't try to hide her exasperation.

"Dr. House, if you subvert or mislead this committee, you will be subject to disciplinary action."

House paused for a moment before he asked, "Dr. Cuddy, do you have any reason to think that I would lie?"

"I simply want you to answer the question!" she exploded. "Is there anything on the recipient exclusion criteria that would disqualify your patient from getting a heart?"

Lisa watched House give Wilson a level look, then glance at Vogler, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"No," House said. He let the negative float in the air for a moment before continuing, "In the meantime, she's 32 and probably in better health than I am. Not to mention I'll bet she'll be grateful to the hospital that saved her life, and she can afford a lot of grateful if you know what I mean." He didn't actually waggle his eyebrows, but he managed to imply it.

Lisa went through the formalities of getting House out of the room on autopilot. She was queasily aware of Vogler, paying attention to everything--he wouldn't have missed that telltale look; the only question was whether he knew what it meant. Lisa, meanwhile, was keeping her eye on Wilson. He'd looked a little worried during the questioning, she thought, but as the committee debated he seemed to come to a decision; when it came time to vote, he raised his hand in favor without hesitation. Lisa knew House wouldn't have told him much--even House wouldn't put a friend in that position--but she trusted Wilson to be able to tell whether House had gone completly off the rails. Fortunately the vote wasn't close enough that she as chair had to break a tie, though in truth she'd have voted in favor as well even if she had.

Because when it came down to it, and reluctant as she was to admit it, she trusted House.

* * *

It wasn't untl it was far too late that she had reason to regret that trust--the transplant was done and the patient was recovering when Vogler let himself into her office.

"Dr. Cuddy, there's something you need to see," he said. He pulled a little bottle from his pocket and handed it over. Lisa glanced at the label: ipecac. The sight of the stuff always made her stomach heave, souvenier of a childhood encounter with some bright red berries. She looked up at Vogler questioningly, though she had a terrible feeling she knew what was coming. "That was found in Carly's purse," Vogler continued, "and I'm told it can cause the kind of heart problems she had."

Lisa resisted the urge to sit down hard. This was what he'd been hiding--the woman was a bulimic. But she couldn't let Vogler know. "She must have hidden it from House," she said, hoping it sounded more convincing to Vogler than it did to her.

Vogler sighed. "You don't believe that," he said.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have voted in favor," Lisa countered.

"This is why it's a problem that you have feelings for him, "Vogler said. "It compromises your judgement."

"The only feelings I have for House are...exasperated ones," Lisa said. She set the little bottle down decisively. "He's a great doctor, and he wouldn't have pushed for her to get the transplant unless he thought it was the right thing to do."

"What House thinks is the right thing is not the same as what is the right thing, " Vogler said.

"Actually, in general they line up pretty well," Lisa said, which was what was keeping her from calling the ethics board even now. She was willing--just barely--to give House a chance to explain himself, because if it was possible he didn't know she couldn't risk losing him. And it _was_ possible--again, just barely.

"I'm going to talk to him," Vogler said. He picked up the vial of ipecac and repocketed it.

"Don't push him," Lisa replied, as sincerely as she could manage.

"Seems to me House needs a little more pushing," he said. "Have a nice evening, Dr. Cuddy."

* * *

She stayed at her desk until she saw House, stumping past the nurse's desk and clearly on his way home. Lisa made sure to time her approach so that he was out the doors before her feet hit the hard floor of the lobby, denying him the chance to hear her coming. She caught up with him a few steps outside the door.

"House," she said, and watched his shoulders stiffen.

"Vogler told you about the ipecac too," he said, sounding resigned. "I'm an idiot, OK? I didn't catch it till it was too late." Lisa looked into his face; she couldn't catch his eyes as he studied the pavement near where his cane touched it. That would account for his demeanor during the transplant meeting--if he'd suspected but not known, House's weird code of ethics wouldn't have allowed him to check, and he hated being fooled by anyone.

"You really didn't know?" she asked gently.

"It wouldn't have mattered if I had," he said, and tried to turn away. Lisa caught his arm.

"Yes, it would have," she insisted. "A bulimic--"

"She's not an idiot," House said tightly. "She's a control freak, and what are they sending her home with?" Now he did meet her eyes. "They're giving her a bagful of immunosupressants that have to be taken on a strict schedule. A litany of appointments that have to be attended. And a strict diet. She'll be fine--all those little details to control, she'll be in hog heaven."

"House," she said again, still unsure. "Did you know?"

"Do you really want me to tell you that, Cuddy?" he asked. "If I knew, you have to call in the ethics board. I'll lose my license. And the fact that you're asking means you'll believe me if I say I _did_ know."

"I'll also believe you if you say you didn't," Lisa said.

There was a long pause.

"I didn't know," House said at last, with just a bit of emphasis on the final word. "I suspected. I couldn't let her die on a suspicion." Lisa searched his face for deception and found nothing--though she knew quite well that House could lie with the fluency of a lifelong con artist when he chose. All she saw was frustration, though.

"All right," she said, and let her hand drop. "Have a nice night, House." He stared at her for a few more seconds before nodding and making one of his lurching, oddly graceful turns.

"House," she said. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Wear your lab coat."

"But what should I wear under it? Can I borrow one of your thongs?" he asked as he started moving again. Lisa, safe behind his back, smiled.


	2. Rules of Engagement

Lisa did not close her eyes and sigh, but it was a near thing. "Don't have it," she said.

"Budget?" Vogler asked.

"Nope."

"Revenue statement, list of expenses…"

Lisa wondered briefly what part of "best in the hospital" Vogler was missing to be going after the details of paperwork this way. On the other hand, all her _other_ department heads managed to keep up with their paperwork. But that wasn't relevant. "House has been very busy."

"Saving New Jersey from leprosy, yes, I know." And who exactly had told him about that case? It had been almost two months ago. Lisa had the sinking feeling Vogler had been reading House's old case files. As if they didn't have enough to do, running a whole hospital; as if _she _didn't have enough to do, dealing with a businessman who thought he could run a hospital. "Getting me his numbers, that's your job."

Lisa was trying to think up an answer to that one when her office door swung open and House marched through it, brandishing a piece of paper like a banner.

"We're in a meeting," she snapped.

House, of course, ignored this and waved the paper at her; he didn't give Vogler so much as a glance. "Need the lawyer."

"Who'd you kill?" Vogler asked, sounding only mildly curious.

House gave him a look that would have been appreciation if it had been directed at someone he liked and replied, "Nobody, but it's not even lunch. Got served with a federal court order. Some witness went into a coma and they want me to take a look at it." He held the paper out in Lisa's direction, but as she reached for it Vogler, who was closer, intercepted it.

"What? They want you to examine a sick person? This is a public relations nightmare." House's eyes met Lisa's and it was all she could do to not allow him to see her agreeing with his opinion of this little bit of comedy. "Don't think our staff do that kind of thing around here," Vogler continued. "This place would be crawling with sick people!"

House drew his attention back to the matter at hand and snapped, "I'm a doctor, I'm not a lapdog for the feds. I don't play fetch." He was still mostly addressing Lisa, who felt vague sympathy for his point of view but wasn't in a mood to accommodate him just at the moment.

"Nobody tells you what to do. Am I right, Dr. Cuddy?" Vogler said, full of false joviality.

Annoyed at Vogler's assumption that she was going to humor House, Lisa was a little sharper than she intended to be. "You have three choices," she told House. "Hire a lawyer to fight the order, treat the guy, or go to jail for contempt. Up to you." House looked wounded for a moment, but rallied and grabbed the paper out of Vogler's hand.

"Jail. You'd like that. No more naughty schoolgirl." House turned, paused, and leaned down to speak, faux-confidential, in Vogler's ear. "Conjugal visit, that's her new fantasy." Lisa, marveling as ever at the new and creative ways he found to be childish, just watched him go as Vogler stifled a laugh.

But once House was out of the office, Vogler turned serious again. "We're not leaving until he's gone or you show me one good reason for keeping him."

"Why is it that 'he's the best doctor you or I will ever meet' isn't good enough?" Lisa asked, keeping her tone pleasant.

"Because he's a loose cannon," Vogler said.

"That doesn't make him a bad doctor," Lisa said firmly. "Now if you'll hold on, I'll see what paperwork I can dig up."

* * *

Several hours later, Lisa was starting to wonder if all this was worth it. She'd had her assistant to the copier more times than she could count, and something about House's lack of organizational skills seemed to be catching because she knew she still hadn't found everything. She looked up from the pile of papers she was paging through--one sheet at a time--and asked tiredly, "Why are we doing all this again?" 

"He loses money," Vogler said, which was enough to make Lisa roll her eyes.

"So does ophthalmology. Who cares, this is a hospital. You can't just cut a department!" Except, of course, that he could; she'd given him that power when she'd chivvied the Board into taking his money.

Vogler looked her over. "You can't control him."

Lisa sighed. "I am the only one that can control him," she said, and would have gone on to explain how it was done (with persistance, knowledge of which battles were worth fighting, and strict adherence to the rules of engagement) except that just then House burst into her office again. This time he actually looked angry.

"D-D-D-Dr. House in the House!" Vogler exclaimed. House threw him a glance that, again, did not appreciate the attempt at comedy. "Impeccable timing as always," Vogler said.

"You had no authority to release my patient," House snapped. Lisa was pretty sure he was addressing her, but for once she was innocent--she hadn't done the releasing. She'd just stood there stewing while Vogler made the call.

"My colleague has just informed me that she has a singular talent. You are just in time for a demonstration," Vogler said, and sat down with the air of a man who intends to watch the show.

Lisa tried to gather her authority. Balancing House with Vogler was beginning to tire her, and all she could do was try not to let it show. In her most reasonable tone, she said, "Dr. House, from what I understand, your –"

"From what you understand?" House interrupted her, practically sneering. "He's not your patient; how the hell do you understand anything?"

Vogler looked crestfallen; Lisa quashed an urge to smack him. One did not smack the Chairman of the Board, no matter how much time one spent around a man who had the emotional maturity of an eight-year-old on a _good_ day. "That's sad," Vogler said, giving her a significant glance.

"You're not even a doctor," House said, with a subtext--if you could call it subtext when it was that blatant--of _And therefore I don't care what you think._

Vogler replied, "John Smith is here only because of court order. I had the records faxed to the judge; she rescinded the order."

"Why bother--just to piss me off?" House demanded, and Lisa winced. That was exactly why Vogler had done it, of course, but pointing it out to him wasn't going to make any of this any easier.

"Keeping the government off our ass. Hmm. Yeah." Lisa was starting to really wish Vogler would stop playing House's game, though Vogler himself seemed to think he was keeping even. Just then House's pager went off and he took his attention away from Vogler long enough to check it. Lisa watched his demeanor change as Vogler continued, "That makes no sense for a public institution."

"Okay," House said briskly, and turned to leave.

"Okay what?" Lisa asked suspiciously.

"Okay...sir. Carry on." Lisa watched him go, aware that Vogler was doing it too. When he was out of sight, she turned her attention back to Vogler and gave him a weak smile.

"He really cares about his patients," she said.

"Yeah, and he just walked out of here with nothing. Something's up," Vogler said darkly. But he was willing to be diverted back into paperwork for a few more minutes, until Lisa's phone rang.

"Just a sec," she said, picking it up. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

"Dr. Cuddy." It was...oh, what was the man's name? The new attending in the ER...right.

"Yes, Dr. Parvati, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"The man from the FBI," Parvati said. "He's back."

"John Smith?" she asked. He wasn't, of course, "from" the FBI, but it was close enough.

"Yes."

"All right," she said. "Does Dr. House know?"

"He's here," Parvati said, in that mixture of dislike and admiration most people used when discussing House.

"All right," she said. "Thanks for letting me know."

She hung up and put her hands flat on her desktop. "They've had to readmit Smith," she said bluntly. "Which means House was right and he wasn't ready to be released."

Vogler was getting ready to reply, looking vaguely as if he'd bitten into something unpleasant, when there was a quiet rap on the office door. Lisa turned to see Wilson, wearing the expression that said he wanted everyone to believe he was amiable and harmless. She'd learned to see though that one years ago.

"Yes, Dr. Wilson, what do you need?" she asked.

"Nothing important," he said, smiling and stepping in a pace. "I was running out to pick up a late lunch, thought I'd stop and ask if you two needed anything." Which was Wilson for _Is anything going on that I need to know about?_, so Lisa smiled at him, picked up a folder, and extended it in his direction.

"No, I'm fine," she said as Wilson crossed the office to get it. She made a questioning eyebrow at Vogler, who shook his head wordlessly. "Thanks for the offer. Could you drop that off with my assistant, tell her I need a copy?"

"Will do," Wilson said. He didn't glance at the folder's contents or even its label; he knew the game too well. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's fine," Vogler said as Lisa was drawing breath. "Enjoy your lunch, Dr. Wilson."

Wilson gave him a smile that looked as sincere as any, and left. Lisa saw him glance back into the office, and spoke to draw Vogler's attention so Wilson could check the folder before dropping it on her assistant's desk. "House has some directed donations, foundation support," she said, leafing through another of her many folders pertaining to House. "It's around here…"

"He makes you miserable. Eight years he's worked here, never made a dime for you, never listened to you," Vogler said.

Lisa, once again, did not roll her eyes. "He can change," she said, trying to placate him.

"He hasn't changed in eight years. Either he can't change, or you can't change him. You have no idea how many times he's lied to you, undercut your authority, made you look like crap to other doctors."

Lisa stopped what she was doing and leaned on her desk, allowing some of her exasperation to get into her voice. "Yes, I hate him, and here I am, desperately trying to protect his job," she said. "What does that tell you?"

"That you don't hate him," Vogler said, sounding smug in a very familiar way.

"I do not protect people I like," Lisa replied, wondering why it wasn't enough that she had to put up with _House_ assuming he knew everyone's motives. "I protect people who are assets to this hospital."

Vogler said, "No. That's me. You, you're softer." Lisa tried not to boggle. It was like House projected some sort of anti-professionalism _field_ or something. She covered her astonishment by snorting.

"Right. There are three female Chiefs of Medicine at major hospitals in this country and we all got there using our feminine wiles." She didn't bother trying to hide her offense.

"It's human nature to want to protect people we like," Vogler said, in a tone that only pretended to be conciliatory.

"I don't like him!" Lisa snapped. Because God knew, House could be entertaining enough, but it sure as hell didn't mean she enjoyed trying to ride herd on him when he got on a roll.

Vogler, undeterred, was still talking. "We think if we can just form the right team, we'll all get along, be able to pull the boat –"

"I don't get along with him," Lisa said, and this time she did roll her eyes.

"Well, this is not a team, it's not a boat, it's not a machine that has a lot of parts that have to work together. The metaphors are all crap. This is a business. That's all it is. You like him, that's bad for business." He seemed to think he'd made some sort of point with this little bit of wisdom, because he didn't speak again.

Lisa counted to ten, in Hebrew. When she was sure she could do it without yelling, she said evenly, "House is a genius. He is eccentric, juvenile, and a pain in the ass, but he's a genius. Without him, there'd be no point in having a diagnostics department at all--" Vogler started to say something, but Lisa overrode him "--and the diagnostics department raises the prestige of this _business_ in ways that I doubt I can explain to you. So I'm going to keep digging through my paperwork, looking for the _one good reason_ to keep him--since 'he's a genius' doesn't seem to be enough--and I'd take it kindly if you would, in the future, refrain from telling me how I feel about my employees. That work for you?"

There was a long pause before Vogler said, "That will be fine, Dr. Cuddy." Lisa turned back to her paperwork, her face as blank as she could make it.

* * *

Lisa was just home that night--the Meeting, as she'd starting thinking of it, was in recess for the evening--when the phone rang. For a long moment, one shoe still on and the other in her hand, she seriously considered not answering it. But duty called, in its shrill unpleasant little voice, and she hopped over to her bedside table to answer. 

Not bothering to check the caller ID, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Lisa," came Wilson's voice. "We've got a problem." And they did, because James only called her Lisa at parties and when something very serious was going on, and today the serious topic of choice was...

"What did House do now?" she asked, with a small prayer that this wasn't one of the rare cases House screwed up, because, quite aside from it making her job tougher with Vogler and the foul mood House himself would be in, the last thing she needed was pissed-off mobsters suing her hospital.

"Well..." James said, and he was amused under the worry so it couldn't be _too_ bad. "It's not what he _did_ exactly; it's more like what was done to _him_."

Lisa closed her eyes briefly. "Is he hurt?" She didn't think James would sound amused if that were the case, but you never knew with those two; they had some very odd guy codes underpinning their relationship.

"No. But he...got a present."

Lisa thought about holding the phone away from her ear, the better to stare at it, but didn't. "Did he diagnose Smith?"

"I'm not sure what he did," James said, "but Smith's brother decided he needed a sign of appreciation for it."

"Well, it's not like a fruit basket from a grateful patient is unknown," Lisa said.

James didn't reply. Lisa closed her eyes again, the better to wallow in the sense of impending doom.

"It wasn't money, was it?" she asked faintly. He still said nothing. "Just tell me, James," she said at last.

"A Car," he said. She could hear the capital letters in his voice. "A bright red 1965 Corvette convertible in mint condition."

"A car," Lisa repeated. Oh, this was so very bad... "He can't keep it!"

"That's what I told him," James said. "He claims it's not graft; says he'd be doing everything exactly the same even if it weren't for The Car." Lisa gritted her teeth. It wasn't like she was going to be able to talk sense into House, but she'd hoped for better things from James. Who sounded like he was drooling over the thing, so no help there. "He's also worried that giving it back might be seen as an insult, and honestly, Lisa, I'm not sure I disagree with him."

"James...just...I don't know. Talk to him," Lisa said wearily. "Did you tell him about the meeting?"

"Yes," James said. "But then we found The Car. I'm not sure how much of it sank in."

"All right," Lisa said. "I'm going to go bang my head against a wall until I lose consciousness."

"Try not to worry about it," James said; she could hear in his voice that he was smiling, doing that reassuring thing he was so good at. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," she said, and hung up the phone. She sat down on the bed and took off her other shoe.

Sometimes Lisa really wished she had a punching bag.

* * *

Lisa didn't really register the moving blur headed for her office, because it was wearing a lab coat and therefore couldn't be House. So she was caught utterly by surprise when it pushed open her door without asking and stood just inside, leaning nonchalantly on its cane. Not only was it House, not only was he wearing his cost, Lisa was pretty sure someone had thought about an iron in proximity to his shirt that morning. Her only consolation was that Vogler looked just as stunned. 

House just stood there, reveling in their incredulity, as he said, "It is my medical opinion that the patient is healthy and can be released."

To Lisa's eternal shame, Vogler rallied first. "Thanks for letting us know," he said, and got up to use Lisa's phone. She, meanwhile, took the few second it took to cross her office to gather her wits.

"I see you've found out what we're meeting about," Lisa said quietly, taking House's patient folder from him to cover.

"You're having a meeting?" House asked guilelessly. Lisa shot him a glance, but was relieved to see she didn't have to worry about the Four Horsemen just yet; House knew, but was refusing to acknowledge that he took it seriously. It was why she cultivated Wilson, aside from him being genuinely pleasant; he could get House to do things he didn't like with less effort than anyone else.

"Well, whatever the reason, the coat looks good on you," Lisa said. She read over the diagnosis again, puzzled. "Chai hu lozenges cause this kind of liver failure? No way."

House made a small annoyed face. "Not by themselves, but in combination with the interferon it's like gas to a flame."

"What interferon?" Lisa said ominously. There was no interferon on the chart."

"For the Hep-C," House explained, and Lisa bit back a sigh. At least now she knew what he'd done to rate the car--Lisa wasn't exactly a mob expert, but she doubted mobsters looked kindly on either drug use or homosexuality, the two best ways to get hepatitis C.

"What Hep-C?" she demanded.

"Oops," House said, looking not a whit repentant.

"Is hiding a mobster's Hep-C that important?" she asked.

"Is letting the feds know everything that important?" House asked, but she could tell it was a rhetorical question. It didn't even bother her that much--keeping the criminals happy was fine with her--but she couldn't let House know that; whenever he got the idea she approved of one of his bits of insanity, he was impossible to deal with for weeks after.

"You know, you are a piece of work, even now," Lisa said, but House wasn't listening because his pager had gone off and he was checking it. Lisa watched his face change.

"Ed!" House called.

Vogler, who seemed to be on hold, looked up and snapped, "Edward."

"Joey's back in a coma," House said. Vogler just stared at him until he shrugged. "Sorry. More of an art than a science, you know." Vogler continued to say nothing. House rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll go look at him." He departed.

Lisa busied herself with her papers so as not to have to listen to Vogler's renewed conversation with the Attorney's Office. It sounded extremely awkward, even though she could only hear his half. When he finally said goodbye and hung up, Lisa looked at him expectantly.

Vogler sat down heavily (as if there were some other way he could sit, Lisa's brain snarked in a familiar voice) and said, "He did that deliberately."

She didn't laugh. "Put the guy in a coma? If you believe that, you should be calling the police."

"He wanted to make me look like a fool,' Vogler said. "He came in here--"

"No," Lisa said flatly. "House dislikes you, but trust me when I say he dislikes being wrong even more. He was blindsided too."

"The genius was blindsided," Vogler said. Lisa didn't miss the significance of his tone.

"It happens to the best of us, even House," she said. "That doesn't change the fact--"

"That doesn't change the fact that he's not worth the effort," Vogler said. "I don't care how brilliant he is. He's gone."

"I told you, without House there's no point in keeping Diagnostics," Lisa said, trying to sound reasonable.

"That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"I'm not," she said.

There was a long pause.

"Dr. Cuddy," Vogler said, and the threat wasn't even really veiled, "I'm sure you're aware that, as chairman of the board, I can bring up the question of _your_ position here at any time."

"Yes, I am," Lisa said. "And if you're successful, you can watch the whole hospital go up in flames for your trouble." She tapped her papers into a neat stack and put it down on her desk. "You are good at this sort of thing, so I am sure _you're_ aware that what's on the books is only about a quarter of what you need to know to keep an institution like this running. Just for example, you have access to all the donor lists. But you haven't had time to learn their personalities, their spouses' names, their pet diseases...or what skeletons they have in their closets. And I'm not even going to mention the actual staff. If you think you can handle it, feel free to give it a try; I'll even save you the trouble of calling a board meeting."

They stared at each other for a while, and for a long moment Lisa was afraid she'd overplayed her hand. But at last Vogler nodded--and for the first time, Lisa saw what looked like respect in his eyes. "Fine," he said. "But some things are going to change in his department."

* * *

Lisa had plenty of time to prepare for House's arrival--like a cat, he always showed up, but with enough delay that he could pretend it was his idea--so she was in full battle array when he finally showed himself into her office. She didn't even have her shoes off under the desk; House would have noticed the height difference. 

"Shouldn't we, you know, close the blinds? If we're going to do this properly?" House asked as he crossed the office, with a vague leer that Lisa thought was mostly _pro forma_. She ignored it and waited till he was settled in front of her desk.

"Vogler wants to fire you," she said bluntly. "Lose the whole department."

"Good thing you fought for me, though, right?" House said, and Lisa didn't think it was her imagination that there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He rallied quickly, though. "The dress was a nice move, but you've got to follow it up. Nasty weekend in Vegas, something that shows off your real administrative skills." He thumbed the cap off his pill bottle and downed one. Lisa did not check the clock; she knew what time it was and if he was a little early she wasn't going to gripe. The Vicodin had gone off-limits around the time she'd let him work while detoxing, a move that still occasionally woke her at night with visions of lawsuits dancing in her head.

"He threatened to fire me," she said, and sat. House looked a little shocked, worked through the implications and said, "I'm sorry." He seemed to actually mean it, too. And when he went on, he sounded sincerely resigned. "So, how long do I have? I've a lot of personal stuff to pack up. I assume you're going to want to throw a party." Lisa let him stew for a moment. She didn't like to do it, but he needed to know this was serious.

"I told him I know where the bodies are buried, the stuff he needs to know that's not in the books. Told him he can't ditch me," she said at last, and watched him think through that in its turn.

"He's only keeping you on because you know the secret handshakes. He's a quick study. Six months, he'll have the moves down. Then he won't need you any more," House said. For someone who was so bad at this sort of thing, he came up with some very astute observations sometimes.

"I'll deal with that then," Lisa said. Six months was the absolute outside of how long she expected getting rid of Vogler to take; by then he'd be on his way out and wouldn't care to fight her.

"So I stay," House said. He was covering his relief nicely, but Lisa knew exactly how hard it would have been for him to get another job; not everyone had the ability to look past the pain of dealing with him to the sheer medical competence he brought along with it.

"Yes. But some things are going to change," she said, consciously echoing Vogler.

"I knew it was too good to be true," House muttered. He braced himself theatrically. "OK, hit me."

"Your department will do six more clinic hours a week. I suggest you divide them evenly."

"I meant the fun kind of hit," House whined. Lisa gave him a level look and he shrugged. "Fine, the kids can do two each, what do I care?"

"I said six more hours, not four," Lisa said.

House pasted on a look of puzzlement. "Lemme think. Two times three is...uh...do you have a pencil? I think I need to write this down."

"Two times _two_ is four," Lisa said. "You'll also need to fire one of your fellows."

"What? Cuddy--"

"I'm sorry, House, but this is not negotiable. Vogler's concerned about the departmental budget--"

"The hell he is!" House interrupted. "He just doesn't like me because I don't kiss his ass."

"Has it occurred to you that kissing his ass might get you a little more slack?" Lisa snapped. "He's here. He's not going away. You need to deal with it, and if that means kissing some ass I suggest you pucker up." She was watching House closely enough that she actually saw him decide to change tactics.

"I can't lose one of my team," he said. "They all bring things to the department. They're all important."

"I'm pretty sure your department can survive with one fewer person antagonizing the lab techs by running your tests for you," Lisa said.

"Most of the lab techs wouldn't know their butts from a hole in the ground," House sneered, though Lisa knew he didn't acutally mean it, which was why she let him get away with having his team run tests at all. That and the fact that time was often of the essence in his cases, and the lab was only open 9 to 5. "Comes of being dazzled by the cleavage every time you walk past the lab." And he'd descended to cheap shots, which meant he was out of actual arguments for the time being.

"There's nothing I can do about this, House," she said.

"You can get rid of Vogler."

"Sure!" she said brightly. "Just as soon as you write me that check for _a hundred million dollars._ Get right on that. Did you say you needed a pen?"

"You're hot, Cuddy, but you're not that hot," House said. A silence fell. House filled it by tapping his cane restlessly on her carpet.

After she thought enough time had passed, Lisa said, "That was all I needed to tell you."

"Fine. I know when I'm not wanted," House said, putting on hurt. He turned to leave, but paused at the door and looked back over his shoulder at her. "I'll get you next time, Gadget," he said, in a strange gravelly voice.

Lisa waved dismissal at him, her eyes on the papers she'd been using for set dressing. She didn't look up until he closed the door behind him.


	3. Heavy Weather

Out of the corner of her eye, Lisa could see House approaching, but she pretended to ignore him until he asked--loudly--"You ever see an infected pierced scrotum?"

She glanced up from the file she was skimming. "Um, no, but I know a few people on whom I'd like to see it happen," she said. House, unsurprisingly, didn't bother to grace that with a reply. "We need to talk," she continued.

House said, "Well, if pain's what you're after the penis is really the way to go. I'd recommend the apadravya." He clearly intended this to be a parting line, but Lisa snapped her folder closed and pursued him. If he thought mentions of odd piercings were going to get him out of this conversation, he was sadly mistaken.

"We're not talking," she said.

"Oh? Sounded like we were," House said, throwing a 'silly me' face over his shoulder that Lisa knew was completely fake.

Taking the bull by the horns, she said flatly, "No, you're attempting to avoid talking because you know what I want to talk about."

"Nipples?" House asked, faux-innocent. He fetched up in front of the elevators and punched the call button with his cane.

She gave him a half-second glare to let him know he wasn't going to goad her into forgetting her point, then said, "You need to get rid of one of your people."

"Absolutely." House said. "As soon as I do performance reviews. And then review the reviews, of course. Because a decision like this can't be made without proper, you know, review. Shouldn't take longer than a month, maybe two. Four at the most, unless it gets complicated." Lisa listened to the ramble, trying not to let too much of her sympathy show on her face; she knew what House's team meant to him, though he'd rather have his fingernails removed with pliers than admit it. And this was exactly the sort of plan he'd come up with, too.

"There's no way out of this," she said, letting her voice go a little softer. "You may as well get it over with as fast as you can, like ripping off a band-aid."

House looked faintly surprised but rallied quickly. "Only instead of a two-cent piece of tape and gauze it's a human being."

"Like you care," Lisa said, to let him save face.

"Like you don't," he retorted. The elevator arrived, and of course one of House's people was on it and of course it was Cameron. Lisa was pretty sure no betting pools had started yet, but when they did her money was going to be split between Cameron and Chase, the latter because Lisa was pretty sure he was Vogler's mole in the Diagnostics department (She knew he had one, it obviously wasn't Cameron, and Foreman was not the type no matter how much he disliked House). But she wasn't going to continue the discussion in front of one of the fellows; aside from being horrifically unprofessional, she'd have bet quite a bit that House hadn't told them yet.

"You have a week. Get it done," Lisa said, already making plans, as House boarded the elevator. Chase could always be slotted into the NICU or the ER for a few months; Cameron could take over the Pediatric allergist slot while Richardson was on maternity leave. Foreman was going to be a little harder to handle if, by some chance, House picked him, but she'd think of something.

* * *

The next day or so was surprisingly quiet. House had a patient to keep him busy (10-year-old with heart attack, brought to him by Cameron so Chase moved to number one on Lisa's version of the hit list) and was even managing to not tick off any clinic patients--at least, not enough that they complained to Lisa. She only had to roust him out of an empty exam room once, and got out of it with a cleavage comment that sounded more _pro forma_ than anything. So when she ran into Vogler outside her office she didn't immediately duck back in, instead leading the way into the clinic while they exchanged perfunctory pleasantries. 

As soon as he reasonably could, Vogler asked, "What's the status on House?" Lisa was beginning to get tired of the way he pretended to be avuncular while trying to run her hospital for her, but in this case it was not a question she could avoid answering.

"He asked for time to complete performance reviews on everyone in his department," she said, and was drawing breath to complete the thought when Vogler said, "And you told him no and gave him how long?"

Mildly annoyed but keeping it under wraps, Lisa said, "A week. He'll do it." Right about then she saw Cameron approaching. It was like the fellows knew when they were being talked about or something. Then again, House did it too, so maybe they were picking up the skill from him.

"Guy's never done what he's told. Don't see why he's going to start now," Vogler said to her half-absently, focusing on Cameron, who was going through clinic patient folders looking for something. Lisa let him go, but kept an ear on the conversation as a matter of course.

"Hi, Edward Vogler," he said, doing the kindly-fat-man routine again. Lisa really hated that routine. Cameron looked up from her search, seeming mildly surprised to be addressed. "Is Dr. House claiming that I'm forcing him to get rid of one of you?" Lisa began to wince, but Cameron's expression didn't go shocked so at least she already knew. "I assume his goal is to stir up antagonism toward me," Vogler continued. Lisa, meanwhile, couldn't imagine what he was up to, unless he just hadn't managed to pick up on Cameron's crush yet--he'd have had to avoid seeing the two of them interact, of course, but given the way House hid from him it was possible.

"And _your_ goal is?" Cameron asked, sounding not a whit impressed but still perfectly polite. Lisa gave her a mental pat on the back. She didn't really _like_ Cameron very much, just a case of incompatible personalities, but the woman was a fine doctor and it was nice to see her standing up for herself. The way she let House walk all over her, you'd think she'd been born without a spine. But in that, as in so many, many things, House was a special case. Cameron was not in love (or whatever she fancied her feelings for House to be) with Vogler, and it meant she wasn't going to let him get away with anything.

"I am forcing him," Vogler said. Cameron blinked at him and Lisa had to stop herself from looking up from the file she was pretending to be immersed in. "I'll do whatever I can to ease the transition for whoever he chooses," Vogler went on, still beaming.

Cameron's tone held a hint of asperity when she said, "If you're feeling guilty about your decision, there is an easy solution."

"I don't feel guilty," Vogler said.

Skeptically, Cameron asked, "Then why approach me and tell me all this?" _Because he's trying to cultivate you in case Chase wimps out,_ Lisa thought.

"I don't feel guilty, that doesn't mean I don't feel _bad_. I'm rich, but I'm still human." He gave Cameron one more sympathetic smile and said, "I just wanted you to know that if there's anything I can do for you, my door's open."

"Thank you," Cameron said, in a tone that, while still polite, had a distinct note of dismissal to it. She picked out a folder from the pile and walked off with it; Lisa put her own folder back down and hurried to his side.

"You looking for info?" Lisa asked. "Thought you already had House all figured out."

"I do," Vogler said, sounding contemplative. "Don't know his team, though." He wandered away. Lisa laughed to herself under her breath, thinking that that was precisely true if he thought he was going to turn Cameron against House.

* * *

Lisa was embroiled in yet another conversation with Vogler a day later. She'd started to think of these talks as "Ways to Save the Hospital that Would Work if Only It Weren't a Hospital." But at least this one wasn't about House, which was a small mercy--at least until the man himself barged in. 

She cut herself off in the middle of a comment about the MRI machines to ask, "Did you make a decision?"

"He's not gonna fire anybody," Vogler said. Lisa didn't grind her teeth at the tone of his voice, but it was a near thing.

House either didn't pick up on it, or ignored it, and plowed forward. "Yes. I'm going to cut the pay of all four of us. Seventeen percent across the board will allow you to keep us all for the same amount of money. I believe it's what you suits call 'win-win'." Lisa, slightly appalled, realized that he actually meant it and thought that it would be a deal Vogler would be willing to take; House clearly hadn't quite caught on to the depths of the businessman's antipathy yet. But she had to give it a try--at the very least she could make things a bit more obvious--so she started, "All right, if you can –"

"No," Vogler cut her off, and House's eyes widened a little. Only Lisa's painfully cultivated skill at reading House let her work it out: he was putting the pieces together, at last. Now to make sure they were the _right_ pieces.

"If he can work it so we can keep the current staff for the same amount of money, what difference does it make?" Lisa asked, putting on flustered to drive the point home. So what if she looked stupid; it would make Vogler underestimate her. There was a reason she wore the blouses she did, after all.

House's tone was scornful, but there was an undercurrent of incredulity in it when he said, "It's not about the money." Lisa could have wept. For all his indifference to what people thought of him personally, House took pride in his abilities; it was sinking in now that Vogler didn't _care_ how good a doctor he was, and he was having to process it without letting it show.

Sounding obscenely cheerful, Vogler said, "This is not a negotiation; it never was. I need to know that whatever I ask you to do, no matter how distasteful you find it, you'll do it. And just as importantly, you need to know that." Lisa tried not to stare openly, but it was hard; the pleasure in the large man's voice was faintly disturbing--if she were honest with herself, not so faintly--and House's face had gone utterly blank. When he turned on his cane without a word, she sighed and leaned her forehead on her hand.

"You didn't have to make it quite so obvious that you enjoyed that," she said when the door had clicked shut behind him, because it was time to let Vogler know that he wasn't the only one around here who could use a lack of professionalism as a weapon. "It was a perfectly reasonable proposal."

"Reasonable, except that it wasn't what I told him to do," Vogler said. "If you weren't infatuated with him, you'd recognize that."

Lisa's head snapped up and she met Vogler's eyes squarely. "I have had enough of that," she said evenly. "Aside from the fact that I've told you repeatedly, and in so many words, that my _sole_ concern about House is ensuring that this hospital does not lose a valuable asset, it's juvenile and gratuitous to be cruel when someone tries to make a hard situation more palatable for himself. It's not his fault that he thought you actually cared about the money more than making him knuckle under--isn't the money what you've been going on about all this time?" Her voice was rising as she spoke, and she let it. "My doctors are chosen for their medical abilities, not for their proficiency at playing politics, and if House is a particularly fine example of that he's certainly not the only one we've got--and if the treatment it takes to make him do his job looks like infatuation to you, I _respectfully_ suggest that you have a pretty strange idea of how a woman acts when she's infatuated. Do I make myself _clear_, Mr. Vogler?"

There was a long silence, and Vogler stared at her with an expression she found disturbingly familiar: he looked an awful lot like House just when the random sports score or talking cricket or strangely-shaped pear had made one of his wilder diagnoses fall into place. Just when she thought his next words were going to be about how much Princeton General would like his money, Vogler said, "Perfectly clear, Dr. Cuddy."

"Good," Lisa said shortly, and carefully did not sigh. "Now. I can get useful work out of House when he's sulking, but it's going to make my life more difficult. I'd take it as a favor if you'd come up with something else. He hates traveling, he hates speaking--make him do that instead."

"He'll still sulk," Vogler said.

"Yes, but not nearly as long. In the end, his team's what matters to him." Lisa forced herself to give Vogler a small, conspiratorial smile, which he did not return. After a moment the big man spoke.

"I'm still going to make him pick," he said.

Lisa didn't roll her eyes; she let her shoulders do the work. "Why bother? Just to drag it out?"

"I want to see which one he axes," Vogler said, and now he did smile, with an edge of predatory delight that Lisa didn't like at all. "I want to see which parts of his team are the most important to him."

"You're the boss," Lisa said, as offhand as she could manage around the twisting in her gut.

It only got worse when Vogler didn't reply.

* * *

That night she thought hard about it, and finally picked up the phone. Julie didn't seem thrilled to hear her voice at first, but warmed considerably when Lisa assured her that she didn't actually need Wilson to come in to the hospital. "Five minutes, I promise," Lisa said, and Julie laughed and said she was going to hold her to that. Fortunately the other woman couldn't see Lisa rolling her eyes. What James saw in that woman she was never going to understand. She put the musings aside when Wilson, without preamble, said, "Evening, Dr. Cuddy, what do you need?" He sounded formal and professional, which told Lisa that Julie was still in the room. 

"James," she said. "I just...I need you to keep an eye on House for the next few days." There was a pause, and when Wilson spoke again his voice was considerably lower.

"I don't know what I can do that I'm not doing already," he said. "I may be the House whisperer, but even I can't make him drink if you know what I mean."

"I'm a little worried about this thing with his team, that's all," Lisa said, feeling infuriatingly helpless. James was right, there was only so much any of them could do. But that didn't make her _like_ the experience.

"So's he," James said, sounding rueful. "I...don't think he expected quite this _much_ heavy weather. He seriously thought he and Vogler could just...I don't know, ignore each other." The two of them glumly contemplated that for a moment in silence.

Lisa sighed. "Just tell him to keep his head down," she said at last.

"I can do that," James said. "In fact I have _done_ that. I can't promise it had any effect, though. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Lisa said shortly. There was another pause. "OK, well, I'm sorry to have interrupted your evening."

"It's all right," James said, a little too fast. "We're done with dinner, just a few of Julie's friends over now."

Lisa did not commiserate; though she didn't think much more of Julie's friends than she did of Julie, it wouldn't have been polite to say anything. "I won't keep you any more, then," she said instead.

James sounded a little disappointed as they made their goodbyes.

* * *

Lisa wasn't surprised when House didn't appear on the chosen day to offer his decision, but even Vogler was willing to cut a little slack since the Diagnostics patient had taken a distinct turn for the worse. As soon as the girl was out of surgery and on the mend, however (Lisa was mildly annoyed with herself for not thinking of Cushing's--it was in her speciality, after all), he started getting restless again. Finally Lisa just led the way to House's office to lie in wait.

To his credit, House hesitated only for a second when he came around the corner and saw them. Lisa wouldn't have put it past him to just turn and run--well, hobble--but he pushed through his office door. A brief silence fell.

Finally, Lisa said, "It's been a week."

"Actually, it's over a week," House replied, making for his desk. "Where have you guys been?" Lisa wanted to snap at him not to be flip, but she knew he needed the appearance of not caring.

"Who is it?" she asked, putting as much sympathy as she dared into the question.

House studied his cane intently for a moment, then said, "Chase." Lisa nodded to herself and had started running over her carefully prepared arguments for putting Chase into the NICU when Vogler said, "No, Chase stays. Pick someone else."

Lisa stared at him, understanding suddenly the sinking feeling she'd had when he'd said he wanted to find out which parts of House's team were most important to him. It also explained why Chase had taken the risk of being the mole; Vogler had promised to protect him. House, meanwhile, looked like a small child whose parents have broken a promise: betrayed, but not quite understanding why.

When he spoke, his tone was heartbreakingly baffled. "The deal was--"

"Deal's changed," Vogler said. "Pick someone else." Lisa had to clamp her mouth shut against a totally inappropriate burst of laughter as James Earl Jones's orotund tones ran through her head: _I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further._

Looking stubborn, House said, "No." Lisa almost sighed, because it really should have been obvious by now even to House that Vogler wasn't going to let this go.

Her worst fears were confirmed when Vogler said heavily, "Pick someone else or it'll be the whole department." House, retreating into his shell, just watched as the businessman left. Lisa paused for long enough to give House a sympathetic glance, then went after Vogler, fuming. He paused to let her catch up, but when she did said, "I don't want to hear it, Dr. Cuddy."

"Well, you're going to," Lisa said. "I am not willing to give up one of the most prestigious departments in the hospital just because you don't like the department head. You said you were going to make him choose; he's chosen. If you still need to know who else he'd choose, I can answer that for you right now: Foreman." Although honestly, Lisa wasn't sure; she'd have bet House _liked_ Cameron more, but she wasn't sure he'd pick Cameron's medical skills over Foreman's. She and Vogler reached the elevators and waited. "That being the case, it's time to offer him whatever alternate deal you've got."

The elevator arrived, but there were people on it so Lisa stopped talking till they got to her office. She headed for her desk, wanting that bit of authority. Vogler spoke as she reached it. "Maybe you're right," he said, looking thoughtful.

"I know I'm right," Lisa said. "I have a lot more experience handling House than you do, and if you keep this up he's just going to dig in his heels. It's better not to make empty threats, and getting rid of Diagnostics _is_ an empty threat." She locked eyes with him. "Isn't it." She made sure to give no faintest implication that she was asking a question.

Vogler was giving her that peculiarly diagnostic stare again, but Lisa did not drop her gaze. After a moment, he said, "Of course," and offered her his friendly smile again.

Later, Lisa would realize that that was the moment he decided she'd have to go.

* * *

**Note:** Yes, there is a quote lurking in there. Anyone who can tell me whose and from what story gets a virtual cookie.  



End file.
